


Passing Grade

by IcyPanther



Series: Shooting For the Stars (But Crashing Back Down) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Protective Hunk, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 18:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14002494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: If Lance stayed in the shower long enough maybe the water would wash everything away. Maybe it would make him forget unwanted hands and the scratchy couch. Maybe… A sob tore through his throat. No. There was no forgetting. But he did have to paste on a smile and try to because no one could find out. Otherwise it was all over. AU - College





	Passing Grade

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Set in AU modern/college setting at Galaxy Garrison University  
>  **Warning notes:** This is a rape recovery fic so there are obviously themes and allusions to rape/sexual assault but there is no actual scene of it taking place. Still, if that is a trigger for you I do not recommend reading. Otherwise no other warnings

Lance braced his arm against the grungy tile of the shower wall, lukewarm water streaming down his back and swirling to mix with the faint red splashes before disappearing forever down the drain.

A sob tore through him and he muffled it as best he could against his arm even though it was hardly audible over the sound of the water. His washrag hung limp in his other hand, stained red and cloudy white.

He turned tired ocean eyes to look at it before shuddering and dropped it to the ground with a wet plop. He closed his eyes then and stood to his full height, placing his face directly under the stream and let it wash away his tears that wouldn’t stop coming.

He wished it could wash away everything.

The sound of the door opening to the communal bathroom and voices entering had him freezing and choking back the oncoming sob, a terror he had never experienced before coursing through him.

He looked at the flimsy shower curtain that separated the shower stall from the rest of the bathroom, seeing shapes move beyond it.

But they kept going towards the urinals and other than the flush a moment later making the horrible water system turn the shower frigid for a second nothing else happened. Water ran in the sinks and the voices moved back out, door closing behind them.

Lance let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, which turned into a gasping choke and he braced his hands on his thighs.

Below his splayed hands he could already see dark bruises forming and he quickly lifted his own with a whimper that had nothing to do with the pain.

He closed his eyes and ducked back under the spray, wondering if he just stayed there long enough all of it would just go away. The bruises, the blood, the ache whenever he took a step… But worse than those were the memories and he dug his hands into his hair, nails pressing into his scalp as though under the pressure he could force them out.

_“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” Lance hung back after the rest of his classmates in his astrophysics class had filed out, Hunk giving him a shoulder squeeze. He knew what this was about: his research paper on flare dynamics that had received a failing grade. He’d thought he had done a decent job but the red ink said otherwise._

_“Yes.” Professor Wilde looked up from where he was shuffling papers into his briefcase. He was one of Hunk’s favorite professors and had an easy-going air that you didn’t find often in Galaxy Garrison University’s teaching staff. “Your paper. Because of the grade you received, even if you were to ace the final next week, you would still receive an F in my class, Mr. Esposito. And according to the admissions office that grade would put you into academic probation.”_

_“I know,” Lance hung his head. And academic probation at GGU was code for expulsion, especially for a freshman like him. It would mean that every penny his family had scraped together so he could come here and study space exploration and piloting had gone to waste on a failure like him. All because of this required class that he could not seem to wrap his head around and his grades always reflecting poorly despite how hard he worked and thought he understood but clearly not._

_“I may have a solution if you are interested.”_

_Lance’s head shot up. “Really?”_

_Wilde graced him with a soft smile. “Yes. It would depend on what you are capable of d—_

_“Anything,” Lance interrupted. “I’ll do anything.”_

_The smile turned up even more. “That is good to hear, Mr. Esposito. Can you swing by my office tomorrow at 1900 hours to discuss it?”_

_“Absolutely,” Lance beamed. “Thank you so, so much, Professor.”_

_“No, Mr. Esposito. Thank you.”_

A new sob tore through Lance then and he found himself sinking down in the shower, legs no longer capable of supporting him. “Stupid,” he whispered below his breath, another salty tear trekking down his cheek. “You are so stupid.”

_He arrived right at 1900 the next day and knocked politely on the doorframe to Professor Wilde’s office in the astrophysics building.  The rest of the offices for staff were dark, most ending hours no later than 1700 hours. Professor Wilde though had told students he believed in being flexible to their schedules and offered evening slots. However, he was very strict that they come by appointment only and would not take walk-ins._

_The man in question was sitting at his desk, cleared of everything save his laptop and a GGU mug that held an assortment of pens. “Ah, Mr. Esposito. Come in. Close the door behind you, please.”_

_Lance did so, taking in the rest of the room. It was decorated with posters featuring various planets, tacked up journal entries from science magazines and a holographic model of the Milky Way galaxy projected on the back wall. A long blue couch took up an entire wall, a mini-fridge crammed in next to it and a small table with two chairs filling up the rest of the space._

_“So,” Lance rocked on the balls of his feet as Wilde made no move to stand up from the desk. “What is the assignment, Professor?”_

_“Undress.”_

_Lance froze mid-rock. “I… I’m sorry, Professor, I don’t think I heard—”_

_“It is not a difficult concept. Undress.”_

_Lance swallowed thickly, hands shaking at his sides. Because what he was being asked…_

_No. No. That was_ illegal. _It was a_ crime. _He straightened up taller. “No,” he said, voice surprisingly firm and he took a step backwards to the closed door. “And… and I’m leaving.” The tightness in his stomach unclenched at his words._

_Yes. Leave. Go._

_Go now._

_He turned and placed a hand on the doorknob._

_“If you walk out that door you will fail my class and you will be expelled,” Wilde said, still sitting at his desk and voice harder than Lance had ever heard it before. “Is that what you want?”_

_Lance shook his head, not looking back. “No. But when I tell the administration—”_

_“Tell them what?” Wilde asked. “Have you proof, Mr. Esposito? No? You think they would believe your words, a student one grade away from expulsion over a tenured professor like me? We both know the answer to that question.”_

_Lance’s hand shook._

_“You have two options, Lance,” and the use of his first name gave him a start. “You leave now, you fail my class and you will be expelled. Or, you do as I requested and I pass you. And should you think to go to the administration, again, I ask you who will they believe?”_

_“But—”_

_“You wish to accuse me anyway?” Wilde cut into his thoughts. “Be my guest. But your name will be dragged through slander as well and court cases lasting possible years. You will lose your scholarship as the university distances itself from you and you will be expelled regardless. So if I were you I would take my generous offer. Otherwise, all of the work your family has done to get you here will be for nothing, now won’t it?”_

_He sounded so_ confident,  _so_ sure.

_Lance shivered and slowly turned around, hand falling away from the door. “You’ve... you've done this before,” he said quietly, surprised at how even his voice was as his world began to shatter around him._

_This couldn't be happening._

_This was happening._

_“Yes,” he said simply. “You are a dime a dozen, Lance. But,” his eyes roved up and down Lance’s figure and Lance shuddered._ _“You are the most exquisite I’ve seen yet. So I ask you, what is your decision?”_

 _Lance hiccupped back a sob. His family had sacrificed_ so _much to get him here, had so much pride in him: the first to go to college (and not just any college but the world-renowned Galaxy Garrison University), the first to have a chance to make something of their family name. He could picture the bags under P_ _apá’s eyes, the tremble to Mamá’s hand after cleaning her sixth house of the day. The hushed cries as they debated if they had enough food to get them through the week, all of the extra hours and blood and sweat they and his siblings had put into helping him to get here. “_ Dispara para las estrellas, mijo,” M _amá whispered to him every night before he went to sleep, “_ porque tú perteneces con les.”

_And he was going to let all of their sacrifices go to waste because of a single class? Because he had been too stupid to get a passing grade?_

_He_ couldn’t. Dios, _he couldn’t do that to them._

_Without real permission his hand came to rest on the waistband of his jeans._

_And blinking back hot tears he undid the first button._

Lance squeezed his eyes shut as the now cold water continued to pour over him. He didn’t want to remember the rest. The scratchy couch. The bruising hands, grabbing at him and pushing him down. The way Wilde had panted and moaned, sweat running down his face.

The ripping, tearing pain when he… when he… Lance pressed his face back against his arm. Blood. Juices. Hot and thick and… he shuddered. He swore he could still feel them running down the backs of his legs, inside his thighs, inside _him,_ but it was just water now. Just water.

He’d screamed. It had _hurt_ and Wilde had not cared. He’d pushed in deeper, harder, rougher, faster. He'd grabbed and scratched and pressed harsh kisses all over between his moans and instructions. And when he was all done, when Lance was lying broken on the couch and too exhausted, too hurt and used to even try and drag his legs back up to himself, Wilde had carded a too gentle hand through his hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head with a whispered, “ _You pass.”_

Lance had somehow gotten dressed, he couldn’t remember pulling his clothes back on, and stumbled his way to the dorms. He was grateful Hunk had a night class as he couldn’t talk to him right now. He couldn’t because he’d say something and then all of this was for _nothing._

He needed to get out of the shower. He had no idea what time it was. Hunk could have gotten back already and that was the only thing that got him moving from beneath the cold stream, shutting off the water and stiffly moving to the small bench just outside of the rim of the shower where his discarded clothes lie in a heap and his shower caddy and towel rested next to them. He could see a milky cloud of white and red substance even from here on his boxers.

A quick glance at his cell phone showed that it was nearing 2100; he’d been in the shower for almost an hour.  Hunk would be back about 2145 so he needed to hurry. Lance realized a moment later in his rush to get to the shower he hadn’t grabbed a change of clothes. Why would he though? He just normally sauntered down the hall in a towel wrapped about his waist.

He glanced down at himself, but all of the bruises from Wilde’s fingerprints and marks from the rough kisses seemed to be concentrated on his hips and thighs; although there were a few scratches and a few more angry marks on his chest. Nothing too noticeable though. Not if he hurried.

He slowly dried himself off, small drops of blood coming away as he blotted around his legs and his stomach clenched. Was he still bleeding? What… what did he do? He bit back the cry as without the cover of water anyone could hear him now. He couldn’t go to the nurse, obviously.

It… it would be fine. He nodded, biting his lip. Yes. He secured the now damp towel about him, wishing it was triple the size it was and mechanically gathered his items together. At last minute he remembered the soiled washcloth and scooped it into the clothing pile he was going to be throwing down the trash chute. He hooked the caddy over one arm, double-checked the towel one last time, picked up the clothes and bundled them against his chest to hide the marks as best he could and then pushed back the curtain. The bathroom was empty and he stole quickly across the cold floors and into the equally cold hallway.

His luck was holding as the hall was deserted and he hurried as quickly as he could, each step sending dull but stabbing pains through his stomach, to his and Hunk’s dorm room. Dumping his stuff on the floor, he beelined for his dresser and pulled out fresh boxers and then dark colored flannel pajama bottoms and a matching long-sleeved shirt.

His hands shook as he changed and he pointedly tried not to look at himself as then he remembered hands where they shouldn’t be and other things he couldn’t even give words to even in his own mind. He topped it all off with a hooded sweatshirt – the big baggy blue GGU one that Hunk had bought but it had shrunk in the wash so it was too small for him but was still comfortably roomy for Lance – because he felt so _cold_ and it wasn’t just because of the winter weather closing in outside.

He was in the process of jamming the soiled clothing into a trash bag when he heard voices outside the door and froze as he realized one of them was Hunk. Class must have gotten out early.

What did he do?

Hunk had been his best friend since his family had moved to America when he was a kid and he told him _everything._ But he couldn’t tell him this and Hunk would know right away something was wrong because Lance was wrung so raw right now he knew he wasn’t capable of trying to put on a smile.

What did he do what did he do what did he _do?_

Hide. The answer came swiftly. Hide. He couldn't let Hunk find out. Hide hide  _hide._

Everything seemed to move into slow motion as he jammed the unsealed bag of clothes under his bed and practically sprinted for the light switch, plunging the room into near darkness.

The dull ache morphed into something sharp at the movement and Lance gasped quietly as he dove back into bed, feeling tears unbidden spring forth. But there was no time for that and he pulled his unmade covers over him and turned to face the wall, just as the lock clicked and the yellow light of the hall spilled in.

“—yeah we can make it into a whole thing with popcorn and—”

Hunk’s voice cut off with a choke and a harsh “shh!” to whoever was with him outside the door.

“What?” and he recognized that as Pidge, the incredibly young freshman in their general education geology class that Lance had taken an immediate shine too. She was an absolute programming genius and at only fifteen had been admitted. Lance could have felt jealous – everything came so _easy_ to her except apparently geology – but he felt more like a proud older brother. She loved video games and the two would often have gaming nights while Hunk sat by and made commentary and tinkered with one of his projects.

“He’s sleeping,” Hunk murmured back.

“At 2100?” she sounded incredulous. “Lance?”

“Wait here,” Hunk commanded gently and the door closed but soft footsteps tracked on the patterned rug Hunk had decorated their room with. “Lance? _Hermano?_ Are you awake?”

Lance scrunched his eyes closed, heart beating rapidly and did not respond. Normally when he wasn’t feeling well one of Hunk’s near patented hugs could fix almost anything.

Not this time though. There was no fixing this.  

A large hand descended on his shoulder and gave it a tiny squeeze and it took everything Lance had not to react. The hand shifted then to burrow underneath his bangs and Hunk hummed under his breath before he removed it. He moved away and Lance heard the sound of things shifting before the humidifier Hunk kept on hand started up.

There was a sliver of light then as Hunk opened the door and he heard him quietly tell Pidge, “I think he might be a little sick. I set the hu—” before the door closed and the words were reduced to a murmur.

Lance let the hot tears fall then and curled himself up into the smallest ball he could manage, hands and arms wrapped about himself in a hug that did nothing to comfort him. His phone that he’d put on his nightstand chimed and Lance reached out a hand to pull it into his blanket cocoon to silence it.

It was a message from Hunk saying he was going to the campus store to pick up some medicine and the cinnamon chai tea that Lance really liked and that he was going to be hanging with Pidge for the next couple hours but just to text him if he needed anything if he woke up and he hoped he felt better soon. Lance closed out the message and pressed the phone to his chest, lip trembling anew.

What did he do?

 _Dios,_ what did he do?

Try to sleep, he told himself. He was exhausted and not thinking clearly and sleep would make things better. Everything always looked better in the morning.

xxx

Things were not better in the morning. It might have helped more if he’d slept but other than maybe a few minutes squeezed in between waking nightmares but he couldn’t. Hunk had quietly come in just after 0100 but hadn’t approached Lance again, for which he was grateful because if he had Lance didn’t think he could have feigned sleep again. Hunk’s soft snores had been the only thing to calm his racing heartbeat so while he hadn’t slept he hadn’t spent the whole night in a shivering panic.

He got out of bed just after 0700 and standing sent a brand new pulse through his stomach. He moaned and hunched over, willing it away. It had been too much to hope that everything would be magically healed like a headache after a night. He forced himself to straighten and then tug out the bag of ruined clothing.

Grabbing it, his shower caddy,  a change of clothes (which he’d never done before) and a fresh towel, Lance quietly exited the room and made for the bathroom. On the way was the garbage chute and he tipped the bundle down it. He went straight for the shower cubicles again, starting the water to the hottest the old pipes could manage. Stripping out of his clothes his stomach clenched as there was more blood inside his shorts. Not too much though. He thought maybe he could throw that pair in the wash.

Hopping in the shower he found more dried blood inside him and on the back of his legs and he scrubbed so hard he sent fresh rivulets and rubbed his legs pink. He just wanted it _gone._ If it was gone then it didn’t happen. A snort mixed with a sob broke free from him.

Yeah. Right. He could just keep telling himself that.

He needed to get it together though. He was fine. Perfectly fine. His hand pressed against his lower stomach as another shot moved through it and groaned, the sound swallowed up by the shower. Maybe not so fine. But it would be. Just like he would be.

He had to be.

He had done this to keep himself in school. If he went to pieces and bombed all his finals next week then this had been for nothing as he’d go on academic probation and that would be the end of it.

Finals. He trembled at the thought. He was going to have to see Wilde again because although he’d “passed,”— the thought tearing another sob from him and he felt lips press a kiss to his head – he likely still had to take the final. He could ask, of course, but that would mean talking to Wilde one on one and… no. Not again. Never again.

But no. His eyes widened. It wasn’t just finals next week. He had class today. He couldn’t miss it either because then Hunk would know something was wrong because Lance _never_ missed classes, not even when he’d had that stomach bug senior year. School was too important to his family, to him. He would drag himself dying to go to a class and to suddenly claim he couldn’t go because his stomach hurt or he had a headache? Hunk would know something was up and he couldn’t have that. Hunk, bless him, was more than a bit nosy and when he caught the scent of something he was like a bloodhound. He would not let this go.

He had to be all right and he had to be all right _now._

He scrubbed a hand across his face, smearing tear tracks and took a shuddering breath and then another.

“Get it together, Esposito,” he told himself. “You’re f-fine.” His voice broke on the word. “You’re fine,” he repeated, steadier. He plastered on a smile that felt fake and that made him stretch it wider. “You’re fine.”

xxx

Lance had some time to try and collect himself before he had Hunk’s inquisitive eyes on him, although he did send him a quick text stating he was feeling better now with a smiley face. Lance had an 0800 class while Hunk would sleep till 0900 so he went to his algebra class, kept his head down, and took scratchy notes for last minute information before the final. Lucky for him the rest of his classmates were in similar states of zombie-mode from studying and papers and no one except the TA, Shiro, had commented on his less than enthusiastic demeanor.

Shiro was exactly who Lance wanted to be; cool and popular and smart and talented. He had graduated from GGU a few years back and was in his final year for his Master’s where then he was going to go work for NASA. NASA. Lance could hardly believe it. But he’d waved Shiro’s worried eyes off with a “didn’t sleep well, finals,” and gotten a huff of laughter and well wishes for good sleep over the weekend.

He’d gone to the cafeteria after class and got a bracing cup of coffee. He hated coffee but he needed the caffeine and there was something comforting about hot drinks. He added so much milk to it that it really was more dairy than anything and he’d drank the whole thing on his walk back to the dorm.

He was starting to move a little easier now, the ache still there but no longer changing into shooting agony that made him hunch over. He did decide, after having to use the bathroom, liquid only diet for a while. That pain had left him nearly crying in the student union building and he was lucky no one had come by.

Hunk had his own class at 1000 hours so the first time Lance saw him was when Hunk came back to collect him for lunch before they went to their astrophysics class.

“You sure you’re feeling all right?” Hunk asked as Lance swirled his soup spoon around the broth, picking out a single noodle. His stomach was a mess of nerves and pain and if he ate anything he felt like he’d throw it back up, and he couldn’t imagine how painful that would be.

“Just finals stress,” he mustered up a tight smile and Hunk nodded back, relaxing.

“I hear ya, man. And we’re just freshman. I saw Keith earlier and he was legit drowning under textbooks for his thesis paper. So much to look forward to when we get to be sophomores, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, scooping up a floating carrot now.

Hunk frowned at the less than enthusiastic answer and Lance winced at his soup. Normally any mention of Keith, his self-proclaimed rival even though the mullet-head was an entire year ahead, would have him up fired up. They’d met by literally crashing into one another in a race to grab the last copy of a book at the library and Lance had hated him after Keith won the book scuffle, but the mullet had tracked him down a couple days later and offered it to him rather than turning it back in where it’d go into the waiting list that Lance had not bothered to try for.

They’d formed a friendship then and bonded over a shared interest in Rocky movies and a hatred of cucumbers and a love of chocolate covered pretzels. Keith had been more than a bit of a loner and so Lance had dragged him to meet Hunk and Pidge and he had become a part of their small group. Still, Lance called him his rival and loved to challenge him from everything to who could drink a milkshake the fastest to running across the campus quad.

He also found out that Keith was practically Shiro’s adopted brother and he’d squeaked in surprise when his TA had barged into Keith’s dorm room while they were all gathered around watching a movie, demanding to know what had happened to his motorcycle because it was _covered in mud and he so as hell better have a good explanation_. It was unusual to see his idol so frazzled and Lance and Hunk had shared equally gaped expressions.  After the initial shock though and when Shiro finally got Lance to stop calling him “Sir,” they’d developed a friendship and Lance looked up to the graduate student like a pseudo-older brother himself.

Lunch finished up in a not quite awkward but not comfortable silence either. Normally Lance would be chattering non-stop but he just… couldn’t. The finals excuse was coming in handy though because even though Hunk shot him another concerned glance he didn’t pry, not even when Lance barely managed to eat half of his soup.

Lance was glad he hadn’t eaten much because as they entered the astrophysics building a little later he honestly thought he was going to pull a Hunk and clutched at his stomach with a groan he couldn't quite hide.

“You’re looking green, dude,” Hunk paused them outside the classroom. “Maybe you should go lie down. I can tell Pr—”

“Mr. Garett, Mr. Esposito, no dawdling in front of the door please. Inside, inside,” and an unwanted hand descended on Lance’s shoulder and gave him a little push. Lance very nearly vomited as despite the fact this time the hand touched only on his hooded jacket he knew where else it had been and leapt forward as though burned.

He could feel the hands on him even now.

Hunk gave him another look as Lance retreated as quick as he could for his regular desk. “You really don’t look good,” he said quietly, settling uncomfortably into his own.

“’m fine,” Lance mumbled. He had to be, remember?

Dutifully he picked up his pencil and tried to listen to the lecture, even though every sound that came out of Wilde’s mouth kept changing; his light laughter to hard moans, his words on the class topic to grunts of “so beautiful, so exquisite,” and every smile a leer. This had been a mistake, he realized, keeping his head down to hide the tears pricking at his eyes. This was torture all over again.

And Lance didn’t know how to feel as other than pushing him into the classroom, Wilde completely ignored him. He was torn between relieved and then confusion that the man could so, so easily just move on after what he’d done. It made anger pool hot and heavy before it dissipated almost immediately back to the twisted sickness.

The hour and a half class could not end soon enough and once the bell rang signaling 1400 Lance popped up from his desk, regretting the quick movement almost immediately, and practically tore from the room, Hunk calling out for him to slow down.

He went straight to the bathroom and puked up what little he had left at that point, stomach heaving and arms shaking as he clutched at the rim. Hunk came up quietly behind him – he recognized those footfalls anywhere – and knelt down next to him where Lance was resting his forehead on the toilet bowl.

“You are sick.” It wasn’t accusatory but Lance felt his face flame. “Do you want to go to the nurse?”

Lance moaned and rolled his head back and forth. No doctors. “Just… just stress,” he choked out, spitting out another string of ropy bile.

Hunk hummed noncommittally. “How about a ride back to the room?” he offered. “And no more classes for you today. You need to rest."

“Kay,” Lance whispered. Hunk dug out a water bottle and Lance flushed out his mouth before flushing all of it away. Hunk crouched down then for Lance to hop on as he loved to do; demanding piggyback rides after long days, when he didn’t feel like walking and pretty much any reason he could think of.

But this time…

“I’ll walk,” he said after a few seconds. Because he couldn’t stretch his legs around Hunk’s girth like that right now, didn’t want any hands, not even Hunk’s, anywhere near certain places of him, and he knew that the bruises that were turning darker now would ache when Hunk’s fingers dug in to lift him.

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah,” Lance tried for a weak smile that Hunk hesitantly returned.

They made it back to their room where Lance immediately crawled into bed. They’d had an evening study-date planned with Pidge and Keith but Hunk sent out a text to cancel it saying Lance was sick and Hunk instead spent the rest of the evening between reading notes and on his laptop. Lance tried to study or sleep, but all he really could manage was shaking under his covers. He did take another shower though. For an hour, although he hadn’t meant to. He just lost track of time under the water.

When he crawled back into the twin bed it sank a few seconds later as Hunk settled down on the edge of it and then carefully lied down next to him. He was delightfully warm and after a few seconds Lance shifted over closer and Hunk placed a large arm over his shoulders and drew him close.

Lance stiffened for the barest of seconds before he relaxed fully into the embrace.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Hunk asked quietly.

Lance gave a jerky nod, traitorous tears pricking at his eyes, but otherwise did not respond. He couldn’t.  Hunk let out a soft sigh and gave him a squeeze.

“I’m right here,” he murmured.

And safe in Hunk’s embrace Lance finally slept.

xxx

The next morning Lance paid another long trip to the shower that cost him his second soap bar in two days. He worried his lip. He didn’t have money to keep buying stuff like that. Maybe if he told Hunk he’d lost it Hunk would give him one of his.

He did feel a little better, at least. The pain had moved onto just a slightly stiff ache and the bruises covering his thighs were now the most painful thing. He could manage that.

He pushed open the dorm room door, half-expecting Hunk to still be asleep after he’d spent nearly all night holding Lance.

He did not expect to see Shiro sitting at his desk chair and Hunk perched on his own bed, expression downcast.

“Shiro?” He looked at the TA in confusion before his eyes traveled to the clear zip-loc bag sitting on his desk that contained a very familiar pair of boxers. They must have fallen out of the bag under his bed. He felt the blood drain from his face and dimly heard the sound of his shower caddy slide from his arm and crash to the floor.

He’d have joined it if Hunk hadn’t reacted so fast, wrapping sturdy arms about him and practically carrying him over to his bed and settled in next to him. “Breathe, _hermano,”_ he murmured as Lance trembled and let out a choked wheeze. Lance did so, heart racing.

“Lance,” Shiro spoke then, voice gentle.  “Are you all right?”

Lance went to say yes, of course, he was _fine,_ but the words were lodged in his throat and his body had other ideas, his head angling in a short shake.

“What…?” he tried instead. “Wh-why are you…?”

“I got him,” Hunk said. “I’m sorry, Lance. I was really worried.” His hold tightened and Lance swallowed a sob. “You… you weren’t acting like yourself so…” Hunk pinkened slightly. “I went snooping last night under your mattress.” Because that was where Lance normally squirreled things away and Hunk had been nosy since Lance had met him. “I dropped my phone over the edge and when I went to get it I found those,” he inclined his head slightly towards the incriminating bag on the desk, “and I… Lance…”

“Lance,” Shiro said in that same gentle tone, leaning forward slightly. “Hunk called me this morning. If you don’t want to talk to me that’s all right but…” he took a deep breath. “I do think you need to speak to someone.”

Lance buried his face into Hunk’s shoulder and let out a muffled sob. _Dios,_ no. _No._ No one was supposed to know. He didn’t want _anyone_ to know but he was more than aware that neither Hunk nor Shiro were going to let this go.They cared too much and he both loved and hated them for it right now.

“Lance?” Hunk’s hold tightened. “Are… are you mad?” The ‘at me’ went unsaid and Lance shook his head against Hunk’s shoulder. No. He could never be mad at Hunk. Hunk was worried. Hunk loved him and he was scared for him and honestly? Lance would have done the same thing. “Do… do you want to talk to Shiro? I can leave.”

“Stay,” he whispered, fisting his hand in Hunk’s shirt. “ _Por favor.”_

Clearly the cat was out of the bag now and he trembled, not knowing yet what that meant for him. For his family. But he couldn’t lie to them. Not when they… he could picture the evidence lying on the desk and shuddered. Not when they knew something was wrong.

“I won’t go anywhere,” Hunk assured. Lance squeezed his eyes tight as he heard Shiro roll the chair across the room and settle in closer to them, but not touching as though knowing it would be unwanted.

_Dios._

He was pathetic.

“Lance, I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Shiro explained quietly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, all right?”

Lance gave a meek nod, still hiding his face.

“Did you engage in sexual intercourse?”

The words were so clinical and blunt but Lance appreciated it. It was better than Shiro tip-toeing around it like Lance wanted to.

A small nod, forehead rubbing against Hunk’s shirt.

“Was it consensual?”

At that Lance gave a tiny shrug. Because he had agreed to it, right? That was consent.

Even if…

Even if…

“Did you want to have sex?” Shiro asked more pointedly and at that Lance gave a tiny negative shake. Hunk hugged him a little closer.

“Was your partner female or male?”

Lance mumbled his answer out, shame painting his cheeks.

“Male?” Shiro clarified and Lance nodded. “Did you know this person?”

Lance could say no. He could lie and make up someone and they wouldn’t find out. He could keep up his story and stay in school and no one had to know.

But…

But he’d known from the moment Wilde asked, from the moment he’d slipped off his jeans that this was wrong. That Wilde was _wrong. He_ had been wrong. He should never have done it. He should have gone to the administration. Should have explained. _Someone_ would have believed him.

Right?

_Right?_

A sob worked its way through him and his shoulders shook. He had messed up. He had brought this upon himself. He was so _stupid._ He’d just…he’d been _scared._ He didn’t want to hurt his family.

And yet, he was pretty sure he just had. And he’d hurt himself even more.

After a long moment he gave a jerky nod and Hunk inhaled sharply next to him.

“Was it a student?”

Lance shook his head no.

“A staff member?” and Shiro’s voice had gone lower now and Lance trembled. Was Shiro angry? Did he think he was lying? Still, he forced out a nod and Hunk let out a little cry.

“You’re doing great, Lance,” Shiro said next and Lance startled a bit. He wasn’t mad? His next words were a little shaky though. “Was it one of your professors?” Lance barely managed to dip his head.

He could almost hear them thinking then, Hunk racing through Lance’s class list of any male professors, of which there were a number. But a moment later Hunk let out a pained, breathy gasp and Lance cringed.

“Wilde,” he blurted out. Lance stiffened and that was apparently all they needed for confirmation.

“The p-paper,” Hunk stuttered and Lance wondered why he ever thought he could have hidden this from him. “When he asked to see you, h-he…”

“Lance?” Shiro’s voice was steady but there was a thickness to it. “Can you talk to me, buddy?”

Lance remained still for a minute, soaking in the comfort of Hunk rubbing his thumb in slow circles over his shoulder. He had to, he realized. He had already said this much and there was no taking it back now.

But…

He gingerly pulled his tear-stained face free and met Shiro’s warm charcoal gaze before casting his eyes down. “You… you’ll believe me?”

“Oh, Lance,” Shiro whispered, voice breaking. “Of course I will.”

So in halting sentences Lance relayed what Wilde had said, had threatened him with. Shiro’s expression grew more and more narrowed but whenever Lance would find the courage to meet his eyes he would receive a tight, sincere smile. Hunk continued to hold him to his side.

Shiro insisted then Lance go to the hospital for an examination, after Lance admitted to still being in some pain, and to undergo a rape kit test. Shiro had called the hospital himself and set it up and then drove both him and Hunk over. He’d asked Lance if he wanted him to call his parents and Lance had shaken his head, eyes blown wide. No. Not now. Not yet. And because he was eighteen and legally an adult they couldn’t make that decision for him.

Shiro had nodded, understanding in his eyes and had placed a careful hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You’re being very brave,” he told him. Shiro had sat in the hospital lobby making phone calls while Lance had gone to see the doctor, tentatively asking if Hunk could come with. He just… His cheeks had darkened with shame at what was going to happen but he still couldn’t… he didn’t… he didn’t want to be alone.

With the doctor’s permission Hunk had accompanied Lance and had stood by, petting his hair or holding his hand, murmuring soothing things the entire time as the doctor probed and touched, gently as possible but with medical precision. His diagnosis had been some severe bruising that ice and time would help, and anal tearing, which was the cause of the blood. Rest, the doctor advised, and some hot baths to soak if he could manage it, along with antibiotics to prevent infection and a painkiller for the muscle soreness.

Upon learning of the prescription and knowing the dorms had only showers, Shiro had offered for Lance to come by his on-campus studio apartment at any time – insisting it, actually – for at least the weekend to take advantage of his bathtub.

From there, after Lance quietly agreed, they’d gone to the Garrison City Police Department where to Lance’s surprise one of the senior administrators of the school, Dr. Samuel Holt (and Pidge’s dad, he’d learned after she mentioned it offhandedly one day and then sworn him to secrecy and _how could he have forgotten?_ Pidge's dad would have done something, believed him.He'd been so  _stupid._ ) was waiting. He and Shiro had exchanged quiet words and then Dr. Holt had approached Lance, sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, son,” he said, real grief in his face. “Please know that we will make sure justice is served. And,” his voice lowered, “no matter what was said to you, the University _will_ protect you. _I_ will protect you. Do you understand?”

Lance had managed a nod, overwhelmed.

They’d then had him speak with Detective Coran, a very genial, fatherly figure of a man, while Hunk and Shiro stayed in the room with him and he recounted, again, what had happened. Statements were taken, the boxers were collected for evidence to be sent to a laboratory along with the kit from the hospital and by the time they left Lance felt so wrung out, so tired that Hunk ended up carrying him to Shiro’s car.

Shiro brought them back to campus after a quick stop to the local pharmacy to pick up Lance’s prescriptions and Lance sort of stumbled his way back to the dorm room, Hunk a steady support at this side.

He’d crawled into bed and Hunk had joined him, wrapping safe arms about him while Lance, buried his face in Hunk’s chest and held on tight to his jacket.  

“I’m here,” Hunk murmured as he slowly rocked them both. “I’m right here, _hermano_.”

Tears came hard and fast then. Relief. Shame. Horror. Guilt. Hunk held him tight through it all. He cried until he had nothing left. But unlike before when he’d sobbed in the shower this time he didn’t feel so scared. So alone. He had Hunk and Shiro and apparently Dr. Holt and they weren’t going to let him suffer by himself. They would help him get through this. To get over… he trembled again.

“I’m here for you,” Hunk promised, voice cracking, as Lance pressed himself more into the comfort Hunk offered. “I'm here."

And that at least Lance knew would never change.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Spanish translation: Dispara para las estrellas, mijo porque tú perteneces con ellos_ \-- Shoot for the stars, my son, because you belong among them. 
> 
> This was actually a pretty guilty-pleasure fic to write for me and I thank my lovely commissioner (who wishes to remain anon) for the prompt. Prompt was for a rape recovery fic set in modern/college AU involving a professor and then some platonic Hance (y’all know me, that was a done deal xD) with the offender getting caught. I do hope you like it love! ♥
> 
> I am/was taking commissions for fanfiction to help a friend of mine in a tight financial spot. Only taking them through 2359 hours CST today, March 17. If you are interested [please see my Tumblr for details](http://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com/post/171963470339/taking-vld-fic-commissions-to-help-a-friend) and message me quickly ;p 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Like I said, this particular type of fic and recovery is quite my cup of tea. And from my work at the police department, I can tell you this is accurately researched :) If you enjoyed it as well I’d love to hear from you in the comments below. A comment is the best way to tell an author “thanks” for writing and I appreciate them very much!


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